


Tony Doesn't Call

by luckintheair04



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Not A Fix-It, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckintheair04/pseuds/luckintheair04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He merely tucks the phone–A fucking flip-phone–into his drawer and doesn’t look back. He gets to work, to help people he can help and to use the little hope he has on sure things, cause he doesn’t have time to lament over things that are too late to fix and things that he could spend forever beating himself up over. </p><p>He does that late, late at night anyway</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony Doesn't Call

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I whipped up on impulse, so nothing serious.  
> Typos in italics are meant that way.  
> First Stony fic and first time posting here, so be gentle.  
> I hope you enjoy.

Tony doesn’t call.

He merely tucks the phone--A fucking flip-phone--into his drawer and doesn’t look back. He gets to work, to help people he can help and to use the little hope he has on sure things, cause he doesn’t have time to lament over things that are too late to fix and things that he could spend forever beating himself over.

He does that late, late at night anyway.

He’s seen the blur of the shield aiming for his neck, the car crashing into the tree with a sickening crunch, his mothers pleas as a hand wraps around her throat, Rhodey crashing down, down, down.

Everytime his eyes shut, there’s HD horrors behind his eyelids.

Rhodey notices the dark rings around Tony’s eyes, which look smaller than their doe eyed selves. But there’s only so much he can do and his circumstances aren’t doing him any favours even though he aches to help his best friend. And Tony never makes it easy to talk it out when it comes to his mental health.

Then the drinking starts.

Not that it ever stopped. But it picks up, to bottles and bottles scattered around his workshop, his room, the roof and he drinks himself to tears, rage, frustration and wakes up to pain laced, smothering hangovers. But its better than his nightmares, better when he’s drunk and when his exhaustion wipes his consciousness in to darkness like a blackboard.

Two and a half months later, clumsy hands fumble around the flip-phone for the first time since he put it away, and Tony’s drunkenly figures out how to properly turn the phone on.

He stares at the phone, such an old phone made for very basic functions, and his thumbs shake as they press the keys, selecting the only number programmed in to it. The number to use when he was in need. It takes him a bit too long to control his thumbs but he finds a certain entertainment in the challenge.

_I neeed you to remhind me neever to let vis shop for his own clothes. Hes decked up in gnold or green and theres no in betweeen._

He hits send and sniggers for too long (cause the last sentence rhymes!!) until he sombers up. He snaps the phone shut and puts it back where it was tucked away before he goes to open another bottle.

He doesn’t remember ever taking the phone out when he groans and wakes up to another painful hangover or when he pukes all over the floor or when he manages to push the pills down his throat.

* * *

 

The first time he noticed there was a message, he hesitated. It took him over five minutes debating whether he should open it cause _Tony was supposed to use the phone to call, damn it_.

When he does open it, he’s confused and intercepts the message for a code. There’s nothing and Steve instantly concludes that Tony is drunk. He tosses the phone aside and walks away. He can’t think about this right now.

* * *

 

_Dont drink water after pineapqples, it’s utttterly nasty._

 

  _Ftuck you, Stevfe. Fucck you._

 

  _How come Natarsrha and Thorq donst tie their hair back? Youd think it would gft in the way._

 

  _Guess what? Viz is my fav. Not you_

 

  _Tually that would be rqhodey. And look what happened to him_

 

_I hope you get spinach stuck in your throat, Cap._

 

  _Got clause 177 fixed. Not that yot readd it._

 

_What am I supposed to do with all your old man clothes._

 

_See, Im a fuck up. Weve established this. But you werent supposed to ftuck up too._

 

_Thor could do a man bun, just sayinh. It could be hot. He hhas nice hair._

 

_Rhodry’s stilk not dropping the wghole tony stank thing. Stanks a bunnch, Cap._

 

  _I think Dumy is malfunftioning. It’s bout timf I guess._

 

 _Vis missses her. It gets sreally pasthetic_.

* * *

 

Steve scrolls through the messages, but reads between the lines.

Tony doesn’t call

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
